It’s slipped under your front door, a single, heavy envelope of cream-colored paper. No stamp. Just your name, written in a neat, looping script you don’t recognize.

Inside, the message is brief.

You know the way to Bly Manor. The towering iron gates always feel like they’re leaning in. Today, they’re already open, as if expecting you.

The long gravel drive crunches underfoot. The house itself is a gray slab against a grayer sky, all sharp angles and too many windows. It looks less like a home and more like something that grew there, watching.

As you reach the top step, the massive front door swings inward before you can knock.

She’s young, maybe mid-twenties, with a kind but tired face. She wears a simple, dark dress, her posture perfectly straight. This must be Kate.

Flora. Miles’s little sister. She clutches a porcelain doll, its painted eyes staring blankly. She doesn’t speak, just watches you descend the hall with Kate.

Kate follows your gaze and offers Flora a tight, reassuring smile. The little girl doesn’t return it.

And there, in a wicker chair tucked between a monstrous fern and a window, is Miles.

He’s wearing a dark, oversized sweater, his knees drawn up to his chest. He’s staring out at the tangled garden, his profile pale and still. He doesn’t turn as you enter.

Kate lingers in the doorway.

His dark eyes find you immediately. They don’t widen with surprise. They just… settle. As if he’d known the exact second you’d passed through the gate.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes.